


Multi-fandom Kinktober 2019

by TheShorty



Series: TheShorty's Kinktobers [2]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: Voyager, Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Attempted Gender-neutral writing, BDSM, Banter, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Catharsis, Clint's gonna give it to him, Crying, Daddy Kink, Dialogue-Only, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, Internal Monologue, Kinktober, Laughter During Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Humiliation, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Not Beta Read, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Punishment, Secret Relationship, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Sex toy mention, Size Difference, Soft Boys, Spanking, Surprise (but consensual) threesome, Sweeter than it sounds I hope?, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Fingering, coaching/encouragement, definitely a new thing for me to try, flangst? sure let's call it flangst, friends-to-lovers adjacent, oblique reference to depression, photoshoot, vague reference to permanent markings/modifications
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 11,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShorty/pseuds/TheShorty
Summary: Fandoms listed are, currently, the likely candidates for my prompts. I'll add pairings and tags as I go, and content warnings at the beginning of each chapter.The first page includes the list I'm working off of, and the link to the original list and its creator. If I'm motivated enough, I'll even try to add pairings and info to the first page list as I go too.Marked as explicit for obvious reasons.





	1. The Prompt List (Table of Contents)

[The Prompt List](https://vexy-sins.tumblr.com/post/187147986243/kinktober-2019-prompt-list)

General Author's Note: I don't assign gender based on genitalia. I know some people may have a penis and refer to it by any number of names, including their clit, as well as someone having a clitoris and refer to it as their dick, regardless of how they may identify gender-wise (male, female, non-binary, agender, etc.). I try to write the gender neutral pairings to where the general genitalia is able to be imagined as anything, including, sometimes a strap-on. I may not always succeed, but I try. So feel free to imagine whatever works for you in these cases.

  1. Glory Hole | Bukkake | **Sexual Frustration** | Roleplay _\-- "[I can't get no (satisfaction)"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49555799), gender neutral, open interpretation pairings_
  2. **Soft Dom/Coaching** | Painplay | Pregnancy | Intercrural Sex -- _"[Next Steps](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49690865)", M/M, Winterhawk (Marvel's Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton) _
  3. **Breastplay/Nippleplay** | Breeding | Phallic Gags/Gags | Shower/Bath/Underwater-- _"[Give In](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49691288)"__, gender neutral, open interpretation pairings_
  4. Forniphilia (Human Furniture) | 69 Position | Lactation | **Orgasm Denial** _"[Consequences](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49751195)"_, _M/F, LoVe (Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars)_
  5. **Size Difference** | Distension | Knotting | Breathplay _"[Choices](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49784885)", gender neutral, open interpretation pairings_
  6. Upskirt Sex | Domesticity | Creampie | **Bulges **_"[Photoshoot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49787642)", gender neutral, open interpretation pairings_
  7. **Spit-Roasting** | Angry/Hate Sex | Object Insertion | **Begging **_"[Surprise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/49935143)", __gender neutral, open interpretation pairings_
  8. **Jealousy/Possessiveness** | Menstruation | Solo/Masturbation | Feederism/Foodplay _"[Dawn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/50088128)", M/F, Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay_
  9. **Praise Kink** | **Face-Fucking/Deep Throat** | Power Bottom | Heat Cycle _"[Used](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/50090327)" , gender neutral, open interpretation pairings_
  10. **Body Modification/Decoration** | Bondage | Frottage | Cock Worship _"[Marks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/50246054)", M/M, Clint Barton/open-male-pairing_
  11. **Anal Pounding** | Anonymous Sex | Medical Play | Electricity _"[Expectations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/50518709)", M/gender neutral other pairing_
  12. Xenophilia | Cum Swallowing | Prostitution | Coiling
  13. Pillow Prince(ss) | Vore (Soft) | **Dacryphilia** | Face-Sitting
  14. **Auralism** | Fem-Dom | Biting/Marking | Seduction
  15. Somnophilia | Clothing Theft | Breeding Mount /Immobilization | Cervix Penetration
  16. Stuck in a Wall | Power Difference/Authority | Fisting (Consensual) | Drunk Sex
  17. Mutual Masturbation | Double (or More) Penetration | Suspension | Mirrors
  18. Body Worship | Bloodplay | Brat Taming | Sex Toys
  19. Filming | **Daddy Kink** |** Sadism/Masochism** | Dirty Talk _"[Loss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844560/chapters/50518613)", M/F, Christopher Pike/Sylvia Tilly_
  20. Semi-Public/Public Sex | Dom/Sub | Aphrodisiacs | Formal Wear
  21. Semi-Public/Public Masturbation | A/B/O | Sounding | Dub-Con/Non-Con
  22. Primal Play | Voyeurism | Kemonomimi/Tails | Massage
  23. Stockings/Socks | Degradation/Humiliation | Collar/Leash | Hypnosis/Mind Control
  24. Cross-dressing | Reluctant Sex/Blackmail | Window/Balcony Sex | Overstimulation
  25. Body Swap | Tickling | Size Queen | Sensory Deprivation
  26. Ageplay | Lingerie | Exhibitionism | Fangs
  27. Latex | Phone Sex/Sexting | Maid/Butler | Tentacles
  28. Micro/Macro | Cum Inflation | Outdoor Sex | Master/Mistress
  29. Cuckolding | Omorashi/Watersports | Office/Workplace | Telepathic or Empathic Bonds
  30. Three(or More)some | Fucking Machine | Petplay | Shot-gunning
  31. Any combination of the above


	2. I can't get no (satisfaction)...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Sexual Frustration
> 
> Pairing: Gender neutral, open interpretation pairings (at least one male)
> 
> Tags: blowjobs, dirty talk, orgasm delay/denial, mild humiliation?, possibly light Daddy kink depending on how you look at it, secret relationships

I’m not sure I can take it, not anymore. Watching him as I cross to the table, eating and talking with the rest of our friends like nothing is wrong.

But I guess for him, nothing is wrong.

He brings his fork to his lips, stopping just short to snort a laugh at whatever the brunette across from him said, and I can’t help but notice how his lips curl up and under itself as he grins and shakes his head. My mind flashes back to this morning, when his lips curled up in a similar yet very different manner.

_His fist clenches tighter in my hair, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s stopping himself from wrenching my head up to look at him. If only it wouldn’t have pulled my mouth off his cock, he probably would have. Instead, I feel tiny pinpricks of pain as the pressure pulls hairs from my scalp. My eyes glance up toward his face, and his head is thrown back, tilted towards his shoulder. My throat ripples and constricts around his cock; he holds me as deep against him as I can take and pulls me just that much closer, pushing his cock just that much deeper. His jaw is tight, the muscle twitching. His top lip has peeled back to reveal glimpses of sharp white—his canines, I realize—biting into the bright red of his lower lips. _

_I wonder if he’s close to bruising his own lip like he’s already bruised mine._

_“Be good for me,” he growls, “and maybe I’ll let you come too.”_

_He knows how much using me turns me on. The weight settles deep into my belly, the pressure building and stretching until it releases another gush of arousal into the pool I feel like I’m swimming in. I open my mouth wider, push myself down a little further onto his cock. A few tears slip down my cheeks as I feel the drifting lightheadedness from too little oxygen begin._

_His fingers spasm against my head and a groan rumbles from his chest so harshly I feel the vibrations where my nose presses against his skin._

_I have no choice but to follow his lead when he pulls my head back, sliding off his cock and breathing fast and harsh, spit and drool slipping from my open mouth as I try to catch my breath. His fingers appear below my face, catching some and smearing it back over my lips and chin before feeding his cock back into my mouth._

_I moan. _

_I can’t help it. Apparently the vibrations do something for him, because he grunts and pulls back just far enough to make sure I can’t miss the burning, bruising as he slams back into my mouth, the head of his cock ramming against the tender tissue at the top of my throat before finding a more comfortable position._

_Well, kinda more comfortable. Only more comfortable in that it isn’t bruising me. Instead, it’s pressing against the lump deeper in my throat, and I swallow convulsively to keep from gagging—or worse._

_His hips pulsed a little out of sync with my swallowing, and somehow in the discombobulated mess, he slipped past the lump. The sounds of choking echo through my own ears, but I’m not sure he can hear them around the muffling effect of his cock and the explosive moan ripped from his throat as he slides where we’ve been trying to get him for so very long. His other hand joins the first, frantic as he clamps them around my head, holding me in a vice as I reflexively try to pull away from him._

_“Oh fuck, baby. Yes. Yessss.” He hisses at me. I feel his cock throb, expand in my throat. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.” My hands are on his thighs now, clawing into him in my surprise as I try to focus on the weight of him against my tongue, the comforting smell of him against my nose. I rut my own hips against the carpet below me, the roughness far from the friction I crave, but I’m desperate for anything that will push me into my own orgasm._

_It’s an experience unlike anything I’ve ever had, as he comes down the back of my throat. I can feel each pulse against my tongue, my teeth, that lump of a gag reflex I’ve so long despised. It’s like my mouth is electric, and every throb zings through me, pushing me higher and higher without anything resembling release._

_He shudders against me, pulls back just enough that his cock is in my mouth but not completely free. A few shallow thrusts as he rides the aftershock, the last weak spurts of come pooling in my mouth. I didn’t realize until now how much I enjoy the taste of him on my tongue as a marker of a job well done._

_We stay there, me suckling lightly on his rapidly deflating cock as his hands release my head a little more with each ragged breath he sucks in above me._

_“Thank you,” he whispers, now petting along my hair, down my shoulders, around to my jaw, “that was amazing.”_

_“Mph mefhmf.” Trying to talk with a soft cock in my mouth is surprisingly difficult._

_He grins down at me. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, what was that?” I whimper at his wink._

_I’m so easy for him. It’s ridiculous really._

_His muttered “c’mere” sees me scrambling off my knees to press against him. I lift my head up towards him, and sigh when his lips meet mine. It’s only a brush of his lips against mine at first, so light and fast I almost miss it, but he comes back again and again. Each pass becomes more insistent against my lips, nipping and pressing until his tongue finally flicks into my mouth. We both groan as his tongue flicks against mine, licking the taste from my tongue, the roof of my mouth, before he pulls away._

_“God, you taste good.” His forehead rests against mine. His hands rest low on my stomach, his fingers just teasing the tip of the hardness he finds there, smearing my wetness around. “I bet you’d really like for me to do something about this. It feels… very uncomfortable.”_

_I nod as best I can while pressing my head into his, leaning forward to trail kisses from the corner of his mouth, across his cheek, down to that sensitive spot at the join of his neck that always elicits a shiver. This time is no different._

_I scoot my hips forward, opening my thighs and pressing myself more insistently against his hand._

_He continues the soft, steady pressure, unmoved by my silent request._

_“Do you think you’ve earned it?” His warm breath against my ear means it’s my turn to shiver, and the extra sensation draws a soft, broken sound from deep inside me._

_“Yessir.” It’s the first thing I’ve said since he pushed me onto my knees earlier._

_“Because you finally let me fuck your throat, like you’ve been begging me to do for weeks now?” His voice is so soft, but the words still sting, curling inside me, drawing me higher. “You think you’ve earned it by doing something you’ve wanted to do for longer than you were willing to tell me?”_

_“Please.” I whisper, the word breaking in half as it rolls off my tongue. “Please, please let me come.”_

_I know logic won’t appeal to him, not this time, not in this situation. It won’t be the first time I’ve begged my way to a mind-blowing orgasm._

_He doesn’t make me beg, doesn’t draw this out until I’m a simpering, sobbing supplicant pleading for my orgasm like my life depends upon it. Instead, he steps away, withdrawing his hand, his warmth… and any chance I have for coming tonight._

_“No, little one. Fulfilling your own fantasy doesn’t earn you an orgasm.”_

_A soft mewl of protest escapes despite my best efforts as my shoulders crumple in on themselves. I nod, meek and quiet, and swipe the tears that have slipped once again from my eyes._

After a quick clean-up—him, not me, he wants me to remember exactly what he's done to me, how desperate I am for anything he’ll give me, to wonder who knows what we’ve been doing behind their backs—we find ourselves here, eating lunch with our few mutual friends, him talking and carrying on like nothing has happened, as charismatic as always.

I’m left to try to hide my discomfort, to pretend like nothing’s wrong, like we are the same casual, barely-talk-outside-of-these-situations people we’ve been for years now.

And somewhere, deep inside, I know that my next orgasm depends on my ability to fool our friends, on how well I can lie.

It won’t seem suspicious if I don’t say anything for the whole meal, right?

Right?!


	3. Next Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Soft dom/coaching
> 
> Pairing: Winterhawk (Marvel's Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton)
> 
> Tags: masturbation, soft boys, coaching/encouragement, Bucky Barnes Recovering, crying, Bucky Barnes needs a Hug, Clint's gonna give it to him

At the two taps on his shoulder, Clint eased his mouth away from where he was sucking a hickey into Bucky's neck, swiping the little dribble of spit away with the back of his hand. Bucky's chest shuddered beneath him with his next deep breath.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Clint checked in with the man below him, propping himself up on one shoulder and using his free hand to trace absently around his strong chest and abs. Bucky took his time, slowing his breathing with closed eyes and measured breaths. Clint would wait. He always has.

“Yeah, yeah I'm okay. I just..” Bucky hesitated, his mouth twisting a bit as he considered his next words. “I want more. But.” Clint kept his steady, rhythmic tracing despite the uptick in his heartbeat, focused on keeping his breathing slow and even.

Clint wasn't going to push Bucky, had never pushed him for anything physical. (He did have to push a little to get him to agree that they were basically in a relationship, so they might as well be _actually_ in a relationship. But that was different.) He was content to hold Bucky, to offer him comfort and warmth, to kiss him and touch him when and where he was comfortable.

If more came, it came. If it didn't, he swore that he was happy where they were. Whatever Bucky needed, because it would always be less than he deserved—not only because of the shit life dealt him over his last 70 years or so, but also because anyone who could find it in themselves to love the moody disaster of Clint Barton deserved the next three suns and all their moons, if you asked Clint. Bucky wasn't sure he agreed, but was glad Clint thought so.

Bucky's voice, soft and timid in a way it hadn’t been in a long time, broke Clint from his reverie. “I’m not sure I can handle the… I think it'll be too overwhelming if you do it. But I'd like…” Clint stopped tracing along the hair-fuzzied skin, placed his hand palm down over Bucky's heart and pressed inward, a solid grounding pressure.

“Breathe, Bucky. It's okay. You're okay. You don't have to explain why if you don't want to, if it's too hard. Just… tell me what you need, and we can work together to make it happen.” Clint keeps his voice measured and calm, pitched a hair lower than his normal voice.

“I want to come, Clint, but I need to do it myself. But I want you here for it, touching me… holding me?” The end of his statement sounds like a question, like Bucky is unsure if Clint will be okay with the arrangement he wants.

Which explains his surprised squeak when Clint kissed him, hard and deep and frantic and joyous. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want, Buck. I'd love to hold you, to be there in whatever way you want me to.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, the muscles across his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Okay. Okay, good.” Silver snaked up to cup Clint's cheek, a gorgeous contrast to the lightly pink and tanned skin of Clint's face from hours on the rooftop on his last mission. “Kiss me,” he instructed “and then undress us both.”

A bright smile lit Clint’s face, and Bucky reflexively returned it. Then Clint's lips were on his, his thighs boxing around Bucky's, his fingers teasing at the waistband of Bucky's sleep pants. Clint pulled away from making out with his boyfriend to say one thing. “I'll try to get everything off without touching you, but if I need to, is that okay? Or would you rather do it, if something gets… caught?”

Bucky snickered at Clint’s vague hand gestures toward their pelvises. “Yeah, doll that's ok. I want you to touch me. I just… think you being the one to get me off will be too much in the moment.”

Clint nodded his understanding, flashed another small smile before dipping his head back to nudge his nose against Bucky's, to tease his lips with light, fleeting kisses as he worked Bucky's pants then his underwear over his hips and hardened cock without hurting him. He traced a finger, light and gentle, up the vein along the bottom of his cock, then shifted to shimmy out of his own bottoms.

Bucky shivered when Clint’s weight, and warmth, slid off to stand over him beside the bed, his pyjamas pooling on the floor by gravity. Warm fingers traced back over Bucky’s thighs and moved down, pulling the last vestiges of material off Bucky's body.

“Where do you want me?” A fleeting look of concern passed over Clint's face. Bucky sat up--didn't miss the way Clint eyes darkened at the hands-free movement—and patted his shoulder blade. “Behind me.”

Once the long, peachy fuzzy blonde legs bracketed his body, Bucky rested back and closed his eyes, soaking in the sensations: soft lips nuzzling against his neck, strong muscles supporting his back, warm hands and thick arms wrapped around his waist, cock resting along the cleft of his ass, hairy legs flush against his.

He ran his fingers up his belly first to circle his nipples before moving back down and intertwining his fingers with Clint's. Bucky guided their joined hands up and around, drifting in the liquid warmth flowing between them. “Keep touching me, everywhere but my cock.” Bucky’s voice was light, dreamy as he released one of Clint’s hand, keeping the other tightly locked in his own.

With his free hand, Bucky slowly walked his way down his body until he brushed along the side of his aching cock. He smiled as Clint mirrored his travels until reaching just below his waistline, then veered to run his hand over Bucky’s hip, his thigh, back up across the side of his ass. Clint kept their entwined left hands anchored, unmoving over his heart.

Bucky smoothed his palm over his cock and down to cup his balls, pressing and rolling them in his hand and feeling his breath catch in his throat.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Clint’s voice was airy and low beside his ear. “I can feel you holding your breath.” Bucky nodded, turned his head to hide in the crook of Clint’s neck.

“No, no, sweetheart, don’t hide from me. You’re so goddamn beautiful. Watch yourself. Watch how beautiful you are.” Clint’s hand slides across his skin until it can grasp his chin, easing his face forward and down to watch as he fondled himself. “How sexy you are. _God, Bucky._ I’m gonna come just watching you.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open as his hand moved back up from his balls to wrap lightly around his cock. He’d forgotten how it felt—to do anything with his erection besides wait for it to subside so he could take his morning piss, to be anything but annoyed at its (sometimes inopportune) presence because it reminded him of everything he didn’t think he could ever have.

He heard a click off to his side, followed by the cool slick of lube trickling down his dick and over his hand. The temperature difference made him shiver, the heat from his cock intensifying the contrast between his skin and the liquid. His shiver shimmied him minutely away from Clint, who reflexively pulled him by his hip and their entwined hands on his chest back until Bucky was once again flush against Clint’s body.

All in all, it wasn’t t a series of events that Bucky regretted.

The lube helped, and before he knew it, he was pumping faster, a grunt or groan pulled from his lips with every downstroke.

Clint kept up a steady stream of filth and encouragement in his ear, a mix of “your rumbles feel so good against my chest, you’re so sweet, you’re perfect” and “your cock looks delicious, maybe one day I can taste it, make you come with my mouth and my hands before we fuck so hard I’m sore for three days”. Clint’s fantasies may have involved touching him, but he never went anywhere close to his cock while he was watching Bucky jack himself off. If anything, Clint was overly cautious to not let his roaming hand interrupt Bucky at all.

Bucky slowed down when he felt his balls tighten up, not wanting this to end yet, not quite sure he’s ready for the sensation of coming so hard he’ll see stars…yet.

Clint groaned in his ear as he slowed to a loose fisted, barely-there pump, murmured ‘awww, Bucky, no…” softly, like his delaying his own orgasm somehow hurt Clint. That made Bucky’s mouth quirk up into a half smile as he snickered, turned his head to nudge against Clint’s cheek and jaw until the taller man finally indulged himself in Bucky’s waiting lips.

When they finally pulled a part, Bucky smiled sweetly at this man who, for some reason, loved him despite knowing all of the shit he’d done, all the things he now _couldn’t_ do as he worked to cage his own demons. He grabbed the bottle of lube again, poured a generous amount onto his dick before tugging Clint’s hand away from his chest. Since Clint’s hand rested on top of his, he turned them to kiss the back of the blonde man’s hand before slicking up his metal hand with lube and guiding them both towards his cock.

Clint whined when he realized what was happening, where Bucky was pulling his hand. His fingers spasmed where they tangled with Bucky’s metal ones, his hips pushed hard and rough into Bucky’s ass.

Bucky’s thoughts raced—he was glad Clint could still find words since he was too far gone to think about anything that required that much fine motor control; Clint’s voice was heaven on earth; he really wanted to wrap his free hand around Clint; why wasn’t Clint kissing him?—until Clint’s stream of consciousness finally broke through.

“Oh god,” Clint’s lips brushed against Bucky’s ear when he spoke, his chin brushing his shoulder as he sucked in a breath. “Oh god Bucky, _Bucky_. Oh god, baby, yes, show me what you like. You’re perfect, baby, this is perfect. You deserve to feel good. I want you to feel good, I want to help you feel so good, sweetheart.” Bucky shivered as Clint panted into his neck, buried his face in the crook to try to curb the explosion of words and feelings pouring from his mouth.

Bucky could feel his face heat up, an even darker shade of red, swallowed his broken gasp at the feeling of their joined hands meeting his cock for the first time. It was a kind of intimate that made Bucky’s head spin, made his brain feel like it was expanding inside his skull, made his heart simultaneously drop into his belly and jump into his throat.

All that came out of his mouth was a shattered moan and something that sounds like Clint’s name.

Clint shifted his finger more fully in between Bucky’s, and the different textures and temperatures—Clint’s warm flesh and Bucky’s own cold metal—against Bucky pulled a groan from both men. Bucky tilted his head, whispered the only other thing he could think of right now besides his throbbing cock.

“Kiss me?”

“Of course, baby, of course.” Clint’s voice was quieter than Bucky’d ever heard it, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that thought because then their lips were sealed together. Clint kissed him like he was drowning, like he was trying to drown _in_ Bucky, like Bucky was the answer to every question he’d ever had. Clint’s free hand rested against the side of Bucky’s neck, drifted down to cup his shoulder.

Bucky started to pump their hands, light and easy, over his cock. Simple, easy up and down, getting them used to working together, letting Clint see how he liked more pressure at the base and a light graze over his tip. It didn’t take Clint long to figure out the rhythm, to add his own gentle pressure where Bucky seems to like it.

“Oh fuck,” Clint groaned against Bucky’s lips as Bucky added a twist as they circled his tip, “oh fuck this is hot. This is so hot. You’re so hot. I know I’m just… repeating myself but I don’t really have anything else to say because you’re so perfect and this is so perfect and it’s _so_ _hot_.”

Bucky half-snorted, half-groaned at Clint’s babbling because Clint added a little pulse to the twist, and Bucky thought he was going to lose his mind. He felt his lower abs tighten, felt the shift in the air around them and the change in his breathing, knew what it meant and he didn’t want to stop this time.

Clint seemed to understand too, without Bucky having to say anything. He sped up their joined movements, followed easily as their hands tightened. Bucky kissed Clint, deep and hard and _needy _and _desperate_.

Bucky came with a cry and a few forceful thrusts into their hands, his own hand going limp under Clint’s as the other man worked him through his orgasm and the aftershocks, pumping just like he’d shown him and then easing up as the aftershocks shook him.

“Yeah, Bucky, that’s it, baby. I’ve got you. You’re did so good, sweetheart.” Clint’s repetitions were like an incantation against his cheek as Bucky sucked in air and whimpered with every exhale, his head thrown back against the strong shoulder behind him. He tried to get his breathing under control, tried to slow it down and even it out despite how his body was trembling and shuddering and then… and then, Bucky realized it wasn’t just aftershocks shaking his body and stealing his air. Bucky was crying.

Bucky was _sobbing_.

Covered in his own come, one of Clint’s hand wrapped around his shoulder while the other cupped his… his _junk_ like it was the most precious crystal as he rocked them both side to side and murmured soothing nothings in his ear, Bucky was sobbing uncontrollably.

“I love you, Bucky. I’m so proud of you. You did so good.” Clint’s words only made him cry harder, and he gave up on trying to stop crying and just crumpled in on himself with a wail. “Oh, love, that’s it. I know, I know. I’m so proud of you, Bucky.”

It was ridiculous, really, that an orgasm made him cry, and that his boyfriend telling him that he loved him and was proud of him _for masturbating_ made him cry _harder_, but here Bucky was. His eyes burned, his face tightened where the tear tracks dried, and he hated the way his lips quivered and his chest spasmed despite his willing them otherwise.

When Clint tugged Bucky’s shoulder, the mess-of-a-man rolled towards him, buried his face in the archer’s broad chest, focused on the sound of his heartbeat. Clint kept up the soft murmurs of praise and comfort, massaging across Bucky’s back with his clean hand, pressing soft kisses into his hair.

Bucky’s eyes felt so heavy, but he wanted—_needed_—to talk to Clint, to tell him he’s sorry for crying, to thank him for being so sweet and supportive despite the grown man having a breakdown in his lap instead of getting him off.

“Go to sleep, baby.” Maybe he said some of that out loud? Either that, or Clint could read his mind, or, more likely, his face. “You did so good tonight. I got everything I needed.” The taller man wiggled his hips a bit, snuggling Bucky closer and wrapping his long, lanky limbs around him as best he could. And for a little while, Bucky thought that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as broken as he used to be.


	4. Give In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Breastplay/nippleplay
> 
> Pairing: Gender neutral, open interpretation pairings
> 
> Tags: nipple clamps, nippleplay, BDSM, established relationship, first person POV

I wince as you pull your hands away from my chest, my nipples caught between your first three fingers, until they are flat and tight and _burning_. Letting them go, you flick them, sure to catch the tip with the sharp edge of your freshly manicured nails.

“Close your eyes.”

I do as asked. I probably would have closed them soon anyways, or rather they would have closed of their own accord. I feel cold surrounding my left nipple and before I can suck in my breath to cry out, the tender nub is engulfed in pressure and flames in the form of whatever abrasive coating covers the tips to make sure they stay in place.

I feel the wetness seep from me as I cry out.

The weight of the cold metal clamp shifts down and I mewl softly in protest at the motion.

“Your head may tell you this pain is bad,” your voice is close to my face, and I feel your finger spread my wetness around before coming to my lips, “but other parts of you obviously disagree.”

You push your finger into my mouth, and I can taste myself—salty, pungent—where you rub it across my tongue. I suck your finger, trying to bring it deeper, trying to focus on it instead of the blaze engulfing my chest. I’m so focused on your finger, in fact, that I notice the cold around my other nipple only when it’s too late.

My cries are louder this time, slightly muffled by your finger in my mouth now pushing against my tongue, and I feel another gush of liquid as my belly drops from the heavy weight of arousal. I feel another trail of wetness down my cheek, just a few tears pressed from behind tightly closed eyes.

The weight of the clamps again shifts as you withdraw from my mouth, but this time is accompanied by swaying as you massage along the outside of my chest, moving the flesh and therefore the clamps attached to them.

The most I can bring myself to do at this point is whimper brokenly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Relax. Give in to the sensation, to the pain. But most importantly, give in to me.” I slit my eyes open to stare at you, your hand coming to rest along my cheek as you hold my gaze, steady and strong.

“I’ve got you.” You whisper, as you tug against the chain between the clamps, making them pull and twist against my nipples. “You’re safe. Focus on the pleasure you feel beyond the initial pain, the pleasure that fills your belly and floods past every safety feature your brain tries to put in place. Focus on me, and everything I want to show you, everything I want to do to you. Trust me, love, and give in.”

It’s something I never understood, how my body can feel so safe in the pain given at your hands while my brain screams for relief.

As you lips descend on mine, I pour myself into the kiss and do as you ask. I focus on you and the pleasure sparking from my chest and pouring out in waves of pungent arousal.

I trust you. 

I love you.

I give in.


	5. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Orgasm denial
> 
> Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars (M/F)
> 
> Tags: Orgasm denial, banter, mentions of past trauma (in passing, nothing graphic), oral sex, vaginal fingering

The smile on Logan’s face turns from soft to sadistic in the space of a single sentence out of Veronica’s mouth.

“I’m still waiting to see what all the hype is about.”

He’d been taking it slow, making it sweet for the blonde vixen, for a number of reasons—because, even though this isn’t the first time they’d had sex, he still wanted this to be good for her given her… less-than-satisfactory early sexual encounters; because he didn’t want to overwhelm or scare her off; because he _really_ didn’t want to be left with a raging case of blue balls (again).

Then she had to go and get mouthy, and not in the ‘woohoo mouthy!’ kind of way.

And this aggression will not stand, man.

So, Logan lowers his weight onto her, settling comfortably in between her spread thighs, wiggling his hips a bit until she spreads them incrementally wider. He kisses her with a little more bite, pulsing his hips against her core in time with her panting breaths into his mouth. He drags himself down her body, cupping the sides of her breasts to keep her nipples in contact with the rough hairs of his chest as he moves.

She moans softly, clutches at his shoulders like she wants to pull him back up into a kiss. He ignores her.

If Veronica wants to be impressed, he’ll give her something to be impressed with.

When he reaches her mound, after nipping and sucking, caressing and pinching his way down her throat to her collarbone and lower, across her breasts and belly, he pulls her hands away from him. “Grab the headboard.” His voice isn’t harsh, but it isn’t gentle either, not like it was before her snarky little comment. She stares at him for a moment, and he can see her instinct to push back, to say no, to _fight_ him even now, even in this.

His smile softens, just a bit. Behind the bravado, he sees a sheen of fear, and that’s something he can do something about. His hand spans across her lower abdomen as he settles between her legs. “Trust me, Veronica,” he holds her gaze, steady but open in a way he’s not sure he’s ever been, “You want to see what all the fuss is about, and I want to show you. But you have to trust me, and grab the headboard.”

Almost as an afterthought, he adds, “…and keep grabbing it. Leave your hands up there.”

She—much to his surprise—acquiesces, moving her hands above her head to hold onto the dark wood of the headboard and closing her eyes. He watches her from his _very advantageous _view for a few quiet moments, watching the easy rise and fall of her chest, the way each breath ripples down her belly, the way her arms and jaw tense and release in a syncopated rhythm as she fights whatever is going on inside her head that she won’t tell him about.

Finally, her shoulders relax into the pillow and her jaw goes slack. Only then does Logan lower himself to the sensitive flesh beneath him. At first, he only breathes against her, soft and slow, giving her time to adjust to his presence, time to tell him no. A quick glance up finds her looking at him expectantly. Slowly, he leans forward and places an open mouth kiss against her mound, never dropping eye contact. Veronica’s face flushes bright red and her eyes widen—in shock or arousal or some mix of both—before she closes them and tosses her head back with a gasp.

That’s all the permission Logan needs. He explores her with his mouth, with his fingers, flicking around her clit quick and sharp, pumping softly into her and crooking his fingers experimentally before withdrawing. He uses her noises to guide him, repeating anything that makes her moan or sigh or grunt until he’s memorized what makes her tick this time, before moving on to something else.

When her keens reach a fever pitch, high and airy and desperate, Logan lifts his mouth away and pushes up onto one elbow. The other hand keeps her right on the edge, two fingers pulsing slowly in her while his thumb circles her clit, careful not to overstimulate her quite yet.

“Feeling more impressed now, sweetheart?” His voice is rough and a little slurred, some syllables sticky because his tongue didn’t want to form the sounds properly inside his mouth.

“Fuck, Logan, yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Veronica’s voice is breathy and annoyed. Her fingers wind their way to her own cunt when her admission doesn’t prompt his return to his previous engagement.

Logan stops her.

“What do you want, Veronica?” He asks, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, pressing more firmly against her clit.

“Ah! Uh…” she flounders for a moment, stuttering and trembling, before she comes back to herself, “I… I want…” Veronica cants her hips up towards him, a silent request instead of saying the words.

Logan stills his hand completely but remains inside her. “Whatever you want, you can have it, Veronica. But not until you tell me what it is.”

The spark, the resistance is back in her eyes. A frustrated wail punches from between Veronica’s lips. Logan removes his hand, massages softly around her inner thighs and mound as she comes down from her peak, since she won’t say what she wants.

He burrows back into his spot on his belly between her taut and trembling thighs, grinning sadistically up at his girlfriend, and runs his tongue softly between her wet and puffy lips, starting the process all over again.

She honest-to-god whimpers at the sensation but doesn’t say anything. If anyone knows how stubborn Veronica Mars can be, it’s Logan Echolls.

He settles in for a long, enjoyable night. Well, enjoyable for him, at least. Her orgasm—or orgasms—will be well-earned—and mind-blowing—and Logan looks forward to every one of them.


	6. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: size difference
> 
> Pairing: Gender neutral, open pairing
> 
> Tags: bdsm, size differences, sex toy mentions, laughter in bed

“Your turn, _lover_.” All I can focus on is the pink tongue licking across your front teeth as the final word is over-enunciated. It sounds smarmy and sarcastic and… completely unnatural.

We both crack up, and the tension surrounding the moment breaks along with the smiles on our face.

“Lover? _Really_?” is all that comes out between snorts of laughter, and it sends us both back into fits of giggles.

It takes longer than it should, considering we’re both naked and tangled up together for the first time in _weeks_, for us to calm down enough to start again.

I kiss you, sweet and tender, before your head disappears under the bed to pull out the storage box we use for toys. I follow enough to nibble along the side of your butt, and you blindly swat behind you trying to stop me.

When you finally come up from down below (a few nibbles and one good bite later; I’m kinda proud of those teeth marks decorating that beautiful curve of your ass), you have four… no, six toys in your hand.

You lay them out into two piles, each holding three toys. The left pile holds a thin cane you know I hate, the small flogger reserved for everything _but_ my ass that makes me swim in a puddle of arousal, and one of my favorite vibrating buttplugs--small, long, and bumpy. The right pile holds my favorite, thick cane that feels like a deep tissue massage, the thick rubber paddle that leaves the prettiest bruises across my thighs and chest, and our largest buttplug that feels too big and I don’t really like it but you love the noises I make while you work it into me and the way it makes me sore for days after we use it.

Your smile is mischievous as your eyes meet mine, your eyes sparkling and one eyebrow quirked up.

“You have only one choice to make tonight, sweetheart. What size do you prefer, big or small?”


	7. Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bulges
> 
> Pairing: Gender neutral, open pairing compatible (at least one male)
> 
> Tags: implied sex, semi-public sex, implied blowjob, photoshoot, internal monologue

_I shouldn’t have come today._

_This was a_ **Mistake**._ WHY did I think coming to one of those publicity photoshoots he’s forced to do would be a good idea?_

_Yeah, I get it, he’s a Face for Good. He’s famous…kinda. And he’s always been known for his smokin’ hot body._

_That’s why this is a bad idea, though, isn’t it? Because my boyfriend is hot and I am _ **thirsty** _._

_Oh god. Oh. My. God. _

_Shirtless. My boyfriend is shirtless and in front of a camera. _

_He didn’t tell me this was a photoshoot to sell pants. And not just run of the mill, off the rack pants._

_These pants fit him like a glove. They show off his ass, his thighs. _

_Fuck, now they have him squatting. I have to keep it together. That photographer is literally taking pictures of his ass in a squat. You’re welcome, America. You’re welcome, _**world**.

_Oh, good, now the front-facing set. When he tilts his hips to the side just a bit, those pants show off his assets. _

_Kneeling in front of him, begging to suck his cock in the middle of the set would be a bad thing, right? He would _ **not** _ be happy with me for that. I can’t do that, no matter how good it looks. I should probably wipe the drool from my face though._

_He’s looking at me. Oh, that look in his eye… he knows. He *knows* what this is doing to me. This _ **asshole ** _planned this! He can tell because he knows me so well, I hope, and not because it’s written all over my face._

_That would be embarrassing. Why does that make me a little extra hot under the collar?_

“Can, uh, hi, sorry. Can we take a little break? I need to use the restroom and grab a snack. It’s surprisingly hot under all these lights.”

“Yeah, sure man. Why don’t we come back in… 20 minutes?”

“That should be long enough. Thanks.”

_Be cool, sodapop. Act like nothing out of the ordinary is happening. Just a couple heading to break together, nothing out of the ordinary here. If you start whistling, though, they’ll know something’s up. Don’t whistle. Don’t whistle. _

_You totally do undercover work, right? Same thing. Blend in. Blend in. _

“Lock the door.” _Oh fuck._

“On your knees.”


	8. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: begging, spit-roasting
> 
> Pairing: gender neutral, open pairing compatible
> 
> Tags: surprise (but consensual) threesome, oral sex, bondage, sensory deprivation, sweeter than it sounds I hope?

“That… we’ll give you an E for effort, how’s that?”

If you say something, it’s lost between the silicone (over)filling your mouth and the blankets into which your face is currently buried. But if I have to guess, it’s something along the lines of “_we?!!?!_”.

It had long been a fantasy of yours, one I played up to my advantage in vulnerable moments, whispering ideas and details into your ear as I worked my hand against you only to take it away at the last minute, or pushing you to just the other side of overstimulation in your twitchy, post-orgasmic state to find out all the things you want to do with me and the soft-spoken brunette now sitting in the corner.

It's been 4 years now, since the world righted itself from the topsy-turvy mess it had been, a mess we partially created, where you and I lived in mutually-self-imposed separation despite knowing we would be better—_stronger_—together.

This is my anniversary gift to you. The traditional fourth year celebratory gift is a threesome with our hot friend who we're both attracted to, while you’re tied face down to the bed, blindfolded and gagged and, judging by the wetness dripping from you, really fucking into it, right?

I scratch my nails up your back then back down, crisscrossing your ass before dropping lower to gather some of that wetness on my fingers.

The clasp at the back of the gag is easy enough to slip off in order to pull the red ball out from behind your teeth, and I place my fingers in its stead. “You really like that idea, don't you?” You don't answer—it would be useless anyways, with my fingers in your mouth--opting instead to nod as you sucked my digits clean, and then continued to suckle, flicking your tongue around them, showing off that mouth of yours. Good for more than a quick barb, indeed.

Your hair feels silky as I card my free hand through your blonde locks. They're currently longer than you normally keep them but you know how much I enjoy weaving my hand through your hair, gathering a solid handful and using it to guide you where I want you.

I make eye contact with our guest, quirking an eyebrow in silent question. Brown hair, smooth and thick and perfect even in its messy state, bounces with the quick, single nod in response.

My fingers pull a little of your spit out to leak down your chin as I withdraw from your mouth. “I think it's time you show our guest how good you are with that smart mouth of yours.” I tell you as I release one arm, making it easier for everyone to maneuver into a comfortable position before I secqure your hand once again. Your mouth rests right beside where you want to be, waiting for permission like the good pet you are when you get like this. When you _need_ this.

“Go ahead, give it all you've got sweetheart.” My voice is sickly sweet as I add, “but you can't come until I tell you too, and for that you'll have to beg.” You whimper as best you can with your mouth full, and the vibrations elicit a heady moan and the thunk of a head falling back against the headboard.

I take my place behind you, leaning down to mouth at the swell of your gorgeous ass, watching the pleasure playing across the tiny bits of face I can see from this position, the spike in your breathing as you explore the new-to-you skin before you with lips and tongue and teeth.

I gather a bit of your wetness once against, smearing it over my fingers before I start to tease you open for the next part of your present. You look so pretty between us, and I can’t wait for all the plans I've made for the night to come to fruition.

“Happy anniversary, love.” I whisper as I ease a finger inside you slowly, and the sag of your shoulders tells me you heard it over all the other noise in the room and in your head.

And _that_—how you let me in, listen to me, trust me despite the demons screaming in your head and in your heart—that's my present, and more than I deserve, every day.


	9. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Jealousy/possessiveness
> 
> Pairing: Kathryn Janeway/Chakotay
> 
> Tags: oblique references to depression, friends-to-lovers adjacent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set at the beginning of Star Trek: Voyager s4ep1, "Night".

“You _get_ to be fine.” Kathryn’s voice is sharp, cold.

Surprising.

It’s the most passion I’ve seen from her in weeks, maybe months. Time passes differently here, where there are no stars, so I’m losing track. But it’s the most force she’s spoke with, outside of tossing me out of her quarters, since shortly after we began our journey through the Void.

She moves with smooth grace to stand in front of my chair, looking down at me with hard eyes and lips pulled thin. My brows furrow in confusion. “Kathry-“

I don’t get to even finish her name before she’s interrupting me.

“You _get_ to be fine, Chakotay. You get to walk out of those doors and know that none of this—ultimately—is your fault, is in your hands. You get to laugh and enjoy morale events without having to make sure you talk to everyone, that you say the right thing, that you’re the confident face they all need to survive this… this hell I’ve stranded us in.”

I lean forward in my chair, hands on the armrests to stand. For why, I’m not sure… to be on equal footing? Because standing while I speak may lend more weight to what I want to say?

It doesn’t matter, ultimately, because her hand grips my shoulders and pushes me back into my chair, harsh and strong.

“Don’t, Chakotay.” The icy tone sends a chill down my spine, elicits a shudder I can’t even try to hide. I relax my hands on the armrests as she circles me, a predator around her prey, her nails scratching just this side of harsh up my neck to the hair along my nape.

Her breath, warm against my ear, surprises me as she whispers softly. “You care, Chakotay, and I’m grateful for that. More than I think you’ll know. But what I need… let’s just say I can’t find it in this hell I’ve stranded us in, and that’s something I have to live with.” I feel the slight swish of her hair as she shakes her head slightly, feel her huff of exasperation against the tender skin behind my ear. 

Kathryn’s little gasp as I grasp her wrist behind my head, not pulling but also not letting her go, tightens something hot and heavy hiding deep in my gut.

“You’ll never know unless you ask, Kathryn. Unless you let me in. Let me _try_.” I turn my head just enough to watch her in my peripheral vision, my face neutral except the slight lift of my eyebrow in challenge. “You might be surprised at how adept I am at… meeting unorthodox needs.”

The small wrist in my grip twitches slightly, but otherwise makes no move to pull away. I watch a bevy of emotions cross her face as she fights the arguments out inside her head. I’ve seen her do it enough at her desk as we discuss trade agreements, so I wait until I see her decisively steel her jaw.

“What do you have in mind, Commander?” She’s trying to keep her voice as hard and cold as it was when this conversation first started but falls just short.

I tug her wrist lightly, pulling her around to stand in front of my chair once again, but this time the picture is much different.

“For starters,” my eyes find hers, hold them steadily, “you won’t call be _that_ title unless we’re on the bridge, Kathryn.”

A spark lights behind her eyes, and the corner of my mouth lifts into a smirk.

It’s about damn time.


	10. Used

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Praise kink, deep throating/face fucking
> 
> Pairing: Gender neutral, open interpretation pairing.
> 
> Tags: Dialogue only, dirty talk, oral sex, definitely a new thing for me to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the chapters that's stretching beyond what I'm used to doing, trying to get the give and take across with only a one-sided conversation. I may or may not have succeeded, but it was fun to try!

“Hands behind your back.”

“Good, sweetheart, just like that.”

“Open up.”

“Your mouth, fuck baby. So perfect. Warm and wet, feels so good. Fuck.”

“Yessss, just like that baby. Yes. Right there. Oh god.”

“Keep your hands behind your back, sweetheart, or I’ll tie them there.”

“You’re so good at that. Fuck, yes. Oh god, baby. I’m gonna…”

“You did such a good job, baby, taking it all and not making a mess… of me, at least. Can’t say the same for you. You look so pretty, though. Your hair’s a mess, your lips are swollen, there’s a little bit of me on your chin still—no, leave it. People will know you’re mine.”

“I bet if I checked, I’d find you’ve leaked through your jeans. Does that make you excited, knowing people will know that I just fucked your face in the back while we were on break? Knowing that anyone close enough will be able see, maybe even _smell_, how much you enjoyed being used as nothing more than a fuck toy?”

“Nope, no touching, no anything, not until we get home and I tell you you can.”

“I know, it’s mean to leave you hanging like this, worked up and nothing to do about it. At least _part_ of you likes it, like the good little slut you are for me.”

“Let’s go. Gotta finish this if you want to get home anytime soon. If you’re good, maybe I’ll get you off in the car on the way back.”


	11. Marks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Body decoration/modification
> 
> Pairing: Clint Barton/open-male-pairing
> 
> Tags: implied sexual content, vague reference to permanent markings/modifications, flangst? sure let's call it flangst,

“Are you sure?” Clint bites his lip, drags it between his teeth and worries it lightly. Stares at the man starfished on the bed, the drawl in his voice lazy and slow in the aftermath of his first orgasm.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

Clint’s eyes trace the lines of the man as he lays before him, the sharp cut of muscle softened in post-coital relaxation, the normally guarded face—a careful façade for the cameras, what can be seen of his face at least—open and earnest in a way only Clint gets to see.

And now… this.

“You know… it’s gonna hurt.” Clint wants to make sure this isn’t a decision made in the endorphin haze of amazing, if somewhat rough, post-mission sex. He couldn’t live with himself if the man he loved more than he can describe thought, even for a second, agreed because he thought it was his only option. Not when so much of their lives revolved around others making decisions for them or them making decisions that placed others’ health and happiness ahead of their own. Their own happiness, their own health, even their own lives.

Clint’s jarred from his less-than-sexy musings by movement on the bed. The shrug of a strong shoulder shouldn’t make his dick twitch, at least not yet, given that he’s not—by any definition—super-enabled.

“Couldn’t be any worse than what I’ve already been through. Plus, yanno, I heal fast.” His eyes shadow quickly, memories he doesn’t want to talk about if he doesn’t have to, and Clint wants to wrap him in his arms forever, to take away anything that makes his eyes vacant and empty like he gets when he falls into his memories.

“O—okay.” The agreement stumbles out of Clint’s mouth before he has a chance to think anymore.

“Good. Sleep?” The question triggers a yawn from Clint, who realizes now exactly how exhausted he is. The archer nods and climbs onto the man who has just agreed to have his mark permanently imprinted on his skin, curling his arms under and around the shoulders of the man who just agreed to wear his mark.

Permanently.

There’s still so much to figure out but, for right now, a pair of gentle hands lift his aids from his ears, muscles shifting subtly under his cheek to drop them onto the wireless StarkTech charging bowl on their bedside table. Clint nuzzles into the soft, warm neck that smells like sex and love and _home_, breath evening out to match the slow trace of fingers against his back as they drift asleep.

Tomorrow, they’ll make plans. Tonight… tonight, he’s got everything he could ever want.


	12. Expectations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: anal pounding
> 
> Pairing: Male/gender neutral other pairing
> 
> Tags: orgasm delay/denial, anal sex, begging, anal plug, sex toys

“Do you think you deserve it? Have you _earned_ it?”

His voice is calm, collected in a way that is directly at odds with how absolutely wrecked I feel. There is _nothing_ about me that feels calm right now. I’m on the edge of breaking into 10,000 pieces, have been for longer than I can even think about, and all he can do is kneel over my limp, broken body to pull every last bit of anguished pleasure from me that he can before I do.

His fingers—long, calloused from years of manual labor—twist and pull at my nipples, and I’m beyond the point of stifling my cries.

“Your clit jumps every time you cry, little one. I can see it from here.”

I’m restrained with my legs spread wide, everything on display, my own wetness pouring out of my body to pool below me in a growing mess. I nod wildly, so far beyond shame or embarrassment that I can’t even begin to gainsay him.

“But you still haven’t answered my question. Do. You think. You’ve earned it?” He punctuates his words by plucking and releasing my over-sensitized nipples. All he succeeds in doing is getting a series of broken whimpers and incoherent babbling.

He knows this, though. He knows I’m beyond words, beyond comprehension of anything outside of direct orders and sensations he gives me. One dimple appears as his lips quirk into a crooked smile. His hair—gray just starting to show around the edges of the dark locks—catches the light as his head shakes. He snorts at… whatever I’m babbling.

I’m thrilled to be so amusing while I’m _losing my fucking mind_ with want. With _need_.

“Yes!” I finally regain some semblance of control over my mouth, and the word spews—loudly—from the depth of my chest. “Yes please! I’ve been good. I’ve earned it. Please, please fuck my ass.”

His dark chuckle should make my blood run cold, especially when paired with his fingers around the plug in my hole. But it doesn’t. Oh, it definitely doesn’t. It just makes me more frantic.

I try, with what little leverage I can muster, to push up against his hand where it rests around the base of the plug, hoping to get a little bit of stimulation where I want it.

He has a different idea, grabbing at the base and pulling it quickly from my body only to push it roughly back in. I keen at the pressure, the change, the burning pleasure. “Fuck, yes, thank you, please.” I recite it like a mantra, an incoherent psalm to the one who controls my pleasure in this exact moment, holds in his hands at his whim, for his indulgence.

I almost cry when I feel his cock taking the place of the plug, body-hot where the plug was barely warm, the head firm in a way that is oddly comforting as he finally pushes in, his body curling over my back, his arms sliding under my shoulders to anchor himself to me. 

“Ready, sweetheart? I’m going to fuck your ass until you beg me to stop.”

I whimper, his warm breath and cold voice sending shivers down my spine. “Yes, yes please. Fuck me. Fucking ruin me. Please.” I babble.

I cry as he withdraws completely from me, afraid he’s changed his mind, that this is too much.

His hips slam in to mine, unexpected in my haze of fear, and wrenches a startled scream from my mouth as he sets a brutal pace, the slap of skin against skin loud and violent in its echo.

It feels wrong and right and it hurts and I can’t get enough. My clit throbs and swells but I know he won’t touch it and he knows I can’t come unless he does.

It’s everything I asked for and nothing like what I expected, and so much better than anything I ever imagined.

And we are just getting started.


	13. Chapter 13

Work in progess.... To be added...


	19. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Daddy Kink, Sadism/Masochism
> 
> Pairing: Christopher Pike/Sylvia Tilly (Star Trek: Discovery)
> 
> Tags: spanking, light daddy kink, older man/younger woman, punishment, catharsis

Pike’s hand burned.

He traced the warmth across the cool skin of the woman sprawled across his lap until he reached her equally warmed ass, red with the faint beginnings of purple bruises along the tender area where cheek met thigh.

She shifted in his lap, gasping at the burn of his rough callouses. Chris tightened the hand wrapped around her chest where it brushed across the side of her delicious breasts, holding her steady across his splayed knees. He couldn’t resist pinching down to her nipple, giving it a firm pull and twist while he let her catch her breath from the last round.

“Are you ready to say you’re sorry?” Pike’s voice was firm but quiet, what she called his “concerned captain” voice.

Red curls flew through the air as Sylvia whips her head to the side to glare at Pike, refusing to speak.

“Very well, then.”

Her body swayed softly as he reset his legs, clamping down on her chest as his hand arcs down in short but powerful spanks, withdrawing quickly from one slap to deliver the next one just as fast to the other cheek, alternating until his internal count hit twenty before stopping.

Tilly started out with grunts and whimpers with each strike, but by the last two was crying out and lurching across his lap, her feet flailing in an attempt to stave off his blows.

“Hands down.” When she doesn’t immediately obey, Chris twisted his overwrought hand into her curls, wrenching her head back until he can growl in her ear. “Don’t make this harder on yourself, little girl. You won’t like where you end up.”

He can tell she’s biting her lip, holding back whatever (probably insubordinate and definitely unnecessary) thought she has on the tip of her tongue as she unwrapped her hands from where they were clenched around his leg and reached for the floor. Her weight shifted and, with Chris carefully steadying her, she slid until her hands met the floor. She supported her own upper body now, and her hips have traveled such that they are braced on only one of Chris’s legs. With his now free leg, he pinned her legs under his thigh, down and out of the way. The position left her in an upside down vee shape, her bright red ass arched high in the air as her breasts hung freely down and her toes curled just a breath above the floor in anticipation.

“Last chance, Sylvia. Apologize now and you’ll get only 20 more, one for every minute you were out of communications during your little stunt. Refuse, and I’m going to spank you until you beg me to stop, then tomorrow you still might get the original twenty you earned before you decided to be a brat about following our rules.”

Her eyes are hard and bright, challenging, refusing to fall from this mountain she has planted her flag upon, even to save her own (very literal) ass.

“So be it.”

Chris settled his hand between her shoulder blades, warm and soft. He can’t help the small, soothing circles he makes against her skin as he prepares himself for what he’s about to do. What she, ultimately, wants him to do. If she didn’t want it, she would have apologized or called her safeword, or just told him no before any of this ever started. That was the nature of this part of their life, though.

Sometimes, his little girl needed him to be firm and unrelenting about their rules, to give her the emotional catharsis she couldn’t find on her own after frightening events, without her having to find the words. She could stay silent or be as bratty as her fear and bravado dictated, and trust that he would do what was needed to give her release and relief, both physically and mentally.

The first spank was firm but not hard, made to warm her back up to harder blows after the last cooldown. Tilly’s only response was a slight huff as she curled her fingers against the floor. Chris chose a steady pace, a few seconds between each blow, overlapping the smooth skin under his hand but never hitting the exact same spot twice, balancing between each side as he moved around her ass and over her thighs.

When her breath had evened out, deep and slow, he moved the next part their process. He varied the speed and placement over the blows between sides and increased the force until she was grunting and whimpering with each blow. His free hand continued its comforting circles between her shoulder blades.

As she began to wiggle against his leg more, he began to talk to her, so soft as to be mostly incoherent but the tone and cadence comforting. Her hips began to twist against his thigh with the blows landing where the skin stretched taut as ass met thigh and down the thin skin of her upper thighs. He pulled away for a few blows, giving the area a small reprieve in order to focus on the swell of her ass.

For as much as this was a punishment for her purposeful and reckless endangerment of her life, against both his and Mr. Stamet’s orders, Chris couldn’t help but admire the way her ass billowed with each strike, the heat of his hand against her skin, the musical sounds that were becoming more frequent as the pain became more than her endorphins could filter. His cock twitched, hard and helpless, against her hip as she cried out as he landed a firm blow across her upper thigh, over an area that was turning a beautiful purple-tinted crimson.

He was only a man.

But, still, he pushed aside his desire to reach between her legs and see how wet and swollen she was, how hard her clit was as he ramped up his pace and force yet again. His free hand now pressed between her shoulder blades, a heavy, steady weight to keep her in place as she became more frantic across his lap. When her hands flew back in an instinctive bid to protect her tender skin—first her right, then her left—from the worsening pain, he simply wrapped his hand around her tiny wrist, holding it firmly against her lower back and planting his arm along her back to steady her.

It was then, and only then, as she lay across his lap completely immobilized and unable to fight the onslaught of sensations that she began to sniffle. Chris listened carefully between blows as she tried to stifle herself, tried to stave off the building tears and emotions with deep breathing and gritted teeth.

“Oh, fuck.” Tilly whispered softly as the first tear slipped down her face, growling at herself and flailing against his hold on her. Chris simply tightened his hold on her wrists and pressed his legs together to secure her legs in their place.

She growled in response.

Now was the time to go for the (metaphorical) kill. “You purposefully endangered your life, Sylvia.”

His rhythm slowed and became steady once again, but the blows were hard enough to make her howl and pant at every one, no matter where he placed them.

“You had not two—not one, but _two_—superior officers tell you not to do it.” Chris kept his rhythm steady and hard, speaking in phrases between each blow. “You deliberately disobeyed, Sylvia, and you almost died because of that. I almost lost you.” His hand spasmed around her wrists as he remembered the agony of waiting for the engineering team to breach the door to the small lab off the bay, the panic in Stamet’s voice as he called for a site-to-site transport to sickbay.

Pike kept up his rhythm, hard and steady against her ass. “And not only your superior officers, but also your friend and your partner.” A choked-off cry escaped from the woman below him, her shoulders slumping, her body shaking as she fought to keep her emotions inside.

“Your family.”

With that, a mournful wail fell from the woman below him as her emotions won their battle. As fast and careful as he could, Chris curled his little girl into his lap, keeping as much weight off her bruised and broken bottom as he could while she clung to his shoulders and shuddered against his neck, her apologies like a chant against his skin. ““I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Chris, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think. I’m sorry. Please.”

“Shhhh…” he hummed against her, his own words flowing over and around those pouring out of the woman in his arms. “I’ve got you. I know you are, sweetheart. Let it out. I’ve got you. You’re safe now, baby.” One hand petted her hair, rubbing fingers into her hair to massage the tension from her scalp as the other rubbed soft and gentle across her sore ass, cooling down the skin and muscles from their hard workout.

Her words faltered under the weight of her sobbing, and Chris held her tighter as she shook apart in his arms. His hands slowed as he felt her breath settle, until the simply held one another close as her cries calmed into sniffles and hiccups. 

There would be time, later, to talk. To explain. To forgive.

Right now, everything they both needed was in the circle of their arms.


End file.
